


Live Long Enough

by DancesWithTurians, Kuraiummei



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Either Die A Hero, M/M, Multi, Spectres, Turians, mini-comic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancesWithTurians/pseuds/DancesWithTurians, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei
Summary: A wonderful gift from DancesWithTurians! This is a mini-comic straight out of a scene in chapter 109 from Either Die A Hero. DancesWithTurians has spent countless hours building Saren's ship (the Daedalus) from scratch and rendering our favorite Turians in different outfits, poses, and situations for the other in-story scenes that were posted at the end of their relevant bits, but *this* really takes the cake. The beginning and end are the missing pieces of the scene, for flavor, but if you haven't read the main fic, this comic/ficlet might not make a ton of sense. :)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Either Die a Hero](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711198) by [Kuraiummei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei). 



 

The exhausted agent set his head in his hands, elbows on knees, once more just breathing through the rough spot. The biotic sought calm, and once he found some, slowly removed each piece of armor. The medical suite's simple start-up procedures were entered, and he laid back with a particularly gusty sigh.

This whole situation was untenable. They were tempting him, supportive and... loving, he supposed was the word.

Saren feared it was making him soft.

Soft was not something a Spectre could afford to be.

The medi-bot worked him over while he struggled with how to move forward.

He felt foolish for letting a small sense of loneliness behoove him into idiotic choices, such as making a bed for three. He was frustrated, blaming them for making him less careful, feeling as though the carelessness that had gotten him shot was from their affection, but was then swarmed by guilt for even considering them in such a light. Shifting the blame for failure? No, never.

If he was a fool for what they offered, and it made him weak, it was his fault. His alone.

But... he wanted it.

Spirits, brother, ancestors and titans, he wanted it.

He wanted his protégé in ways that were completely outside an acceptable role for a mentor, and the sniper in ways the Vakarian scion could never offer.

Where had all this come from? How had it built up so strong, without him realizing?

The medical suite pinged with mild displeasure at his rising blood pressure. Unshed tears stung in his eyes. He had not even been sure his lacrimal ducts even functioned after the incident with acid had destroyed his original eyes. The glassy surface of his optics never seemed to be wet, and yet the blurry ceiling above him proved that some small amount of them still functioned.

Still, he refused to allow such a thing. Saren Arterius had not wept since the first anniversary of his brother's death, the day that loss had suddenly become real after denial was worn thin. There was no excuse to give in to them now, over matters much less dire.

He continued to focus on other things, forcing his mind to a different place as the advanced multi-million credit machinery repaired his leg to full functionality in a fraction of the time it would have taken nature to do the same. An hour and seventeen minutes, to be precise.

Saren was still meditating when it finished, and he continued until he felt able to face everything.

He did so, not one to leave any problem unresolved.

Sometime late into the night cycle the Spectre emerged from medbay, mind settled on the matter. All was quiet in the halls, and so the biotic turned for the main cabin. Inside the other two looked to be asleep on the lower platform, as he had planned for. Garrus was curled up in a mildly comedic ball, the mountainous torin still taking up a lion's share of the bed space. Nihlus was half sitting up against the wall, arms crossed over his stomach, with his face angled to the door.

As the silver-grey Spectre moved closer, his protégé's eyes slid open, watching him silently.

“Nihlus?” he called quietly...

 

  


 

  


 

  


 

  


 

  


 

Saren leaned in, taking hold of the torin's dark red chin in two fingers, and tugging gently till Nihlus faced him. The stolid agent brought their foreheads together with a quiet thud.

“You are important to me. At times, my consideration for you distracts me. My focus was on your wellness while it should have been on the mission, and for that, I was injured. A sniper caught me off guard. It is... not your fault. It is mine. I need to find a balance, but my nature lends itself to... extreme focus on that which I am interested in. I will not... avoid you for months again, but give me time to find the middle ground I seek. Be prepared that it may involve some... distancing.”

Nihlus pressed back into his fringe, hands coming up to cling on his collar.

“I don't want 'distancing'.”

“I am aware.”

“Will you... umm... try and figure something else out?”

“I will. I... want to.”

The carmine plated Spectre swallowed heavily, mouth plates moving as he if were searching for words, but it took him a moment to find them.

Simply, “Thank the spirits,” was all he managed, with a half-second smile that cut more than it reassured.

Saren chuffed, letting go of the dark red chin to run a hand over the long elegant lines of white familia notas that decorated his protégé's crest.

“Go back to sleep.”

“ ...'kay.”

The biotic Spectre climbed over the other two, making note of Garrus' closed eyes that did not hide the soft smile in his mandibles.

Saren shook his head and settled in on the top bunk, hoping his choices were taking him down the right path.

 


End file.
